What This Woman Needs
by windswept butterfly
Summary: Result of a CarbyBoard challenge. Carter's been away. Abby is overwhelmed by a certain *need*...
1. Prologue

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This story is the result of a FicChallenge that was posted on the Carby Board. Information regarding said challenge is given below…

The Instructions:  
Using any one of the current livejournal mood categories (listed below), write a one page (about 500 word) scene around that mood. Doesn't have to be Carby, but keep it ER.

The Moods:  
accomplished aggravated amused angry annoyed anxious apathetic artistic awake bitchy blah blank bored bouncy busy calm cheerful chipper cold complacent confused contemplative content cool cranky crappy crazy creative crushed curious cynical depressed determined devious dirty disappointed discontent distressed ditzy dorky drained drunk ecstatic embarrassed energetic enraged enthralled envious exanimate excited exhausted flirty frustrated full geeky giddy giggly gloomy good grateful groggy grumpy guilty happy high hopeful horny hot hungry hyper impressed indescribable indifferent infuriated intimidated irate irritated jealous jubilant lazy lethargic listless lonely loved melancholy mellow mischievous moody morose naughty nauseated nerdy nervous nostalgic numb okay optimistic peaceful pensive pessimistic pissed off pleased predatory productive quixotic recumbent refreshed rejected rejuvenated relaxed relieved restless rushed sad satisfied scared shocked sick silly sleepy sore stressed surprised sympathetic thankful thirsty thoughtful tired touched uncomfortable weird working worried

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Now *ahem* I am quite the fan of some good, old-fashioned CarbyLovin'…so, not surprisingly, I took on the challenge of the mood "Horny" ::wooks:: 'Tis rather rated R…don't say I didn't warn you. Blatant adult themes and language are used - if you are widdle bitty or have widdle bitty virgin eyes, run away. If not, just don't bitch to me about it. It's not NC-17 in the slightest. Just R. But…highly amusing. Enjoy…


	2. What This Woman Needs

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Horny: Desirous of sexual activity.

Whoever said, "absence makes the heart grow fonder" was clearly never separated from John Carter for an entire month and a half.

Screw the heart. Absence makes the libido grow stronger, that's what it does.

All I know is that he'll be walking through that door in a matter of moments. And I will most likely throw him against said door and show him exactly why it's in his best interest to never leave again.

Sure, I know it was a family emergency and he would have come back sooner if he could.

But that doesn't change how much I've been thinking of him. Naked. In my bed. Or my shower. Or on my couch. Or the kitchen table. Or counter. Or up against the wall…

I hear the door open from my spot on the bed and I know that he's officially here. And suddenly I feel dizzy with excitement. I need him. I want him. Now.

Standing, I take a few steps into the hallway and find him with his back to me, pouring a cup of coffee in the kitchen. And my decision is easily made.

The kitchen table, it is.

I can't help but notice that he's wearing far too many clothes.

That has to change.

Immediately.

I take a few more steps toward him, louder this time, and gain his attention. He turns and smiles at the sight of me. And that does it. I'm past the point of being turned on or wanton. If he keeps smiling at me like that, I'm going to have a goddamn orgasm where I stand.

Yep. Definitely horny.

He's moving toward me now. Yes, Dr. Carter, come hither. It's time to play.

"Hey. I didn't think you were home," he manages, voice low in his throat.

Sexy voice.

Sexy Carter.

It's been too damn long.

"You're a sight for sore eyes," he continues, getting closer still. And then he's inches from my mouth. "I missed you." And I have no idea why I'm not on top of him, ripping those jeans off at this exact moment. I can't breathe. Take me, Carter. Take me now.

Lips. So. Close.

But now he's whispering in my ear. 

"We've got a lot of catching up to do," and before I can register my thoughts, I hear myself let out a raspy "John…"

And I know he can hear the way my breath is catching in my throat, desperate for him. He moves his eyes back to mine and smiles. He knows what I want. But apparently he wants to torture me.

"Yes…?" And I am now so incapable of speech that my only response is a frantic and beseeching "Please."

He raises his eyebrows and licks his lips. Come on, Carter. On with the show.

And the sex gods are apparently answering my cries for help, because his lips are again lingering near mine. I can feel the sexual tension between us. It's too much. I reach for his waist and start to unbutton his jeans, and it's at this exact moment that he pulls away. 

What the fuck, Carter?

"Someone's a little feisty tonight," he comments as he walks away from me, stepping into the bedroom.

Sonuvabitch. He'll pay for that, the little bastard. I stand in shock momentarily, his little tease having left me paralyzed with sexual frustration.

I don't want to be teased.

I want to fuck.

But like I said, I'll get him back.

Eventually.

Not tonight.

Tonight, my own need for sex is far too overwhelming to give a shit about payback. So I soldier on. Into the bedroom. He had better be naked in there.

But I find him fully clothed and sprawled out on the bed, flipping through a medical journal. He looks up at me, obviously amused with himself.

I'm too damn desperate for him to be amused by his antics right now.

"Was there something you wanted?" he asks with a smile.

"You know what I want," I respond as I move seductively toward the bed.

But he wants to banter with me. "I do?" he continues.

"Yes. I think we want the same thing…" I whisper, becoming more turned on and yet more pissed at him by the second. If he doesn't give up right now, I swear I'm going to walk out and deny him sex for the rest of his life.

Torturous asshole.

"And what would that be?" he continues, now fully concentrated on his magazine again. That's it. I can't take it anymore. He's crossed the line.

I throw my hands up in the air, frustration still managing to make me want him even more.

But still.

"Fuck you, Carter, okay? Just…fuck you." And I turn to walk away.

There.

That'll teach him.

But he grabs my hand just before I'm out of reach, and I turn to look at him. He's smiling again, that same sexy smile he gave when he first saw me in the kitchen.

"Please do," he responds, his eyes begging mine.

And so I jump him.


End file.
